in the Ashtray..

A dancing cigarette
In her hand
A mourning clarinet
Is her tone
her way

Dressed in blue
And white
Her world is true
And slight
gray

Her eyes are desperate
And calling
As much as intimate
She is falling
away

she is deaf
and mute
like an ancient flute
rhyming
with the heart moans
sway

In the circled smoke
She drew her fears
And when she spoke
She threw her spears
Cheers!
To the memories
Of tomorrow,
burning the past
in a crystal Ashtray..